Whispers from the Second Age
by Deception inc
Summary: Sauron had always had a slight weakness towards the jewels called "woodland elves" : Note: Do not read if you are morally sensitive


_Summary: Sauron __had a weakness towards the jewels called "woodland elves." _

_Note: D__o not read if you are morally sensitive. _

_A/N: What to say? I was inspired. __This was originally meant for the celebration of Halloween, but being as bored as I am, I decided to post it a bit early. _

**Whispers ****from the Second Age**

Despite the tales that were told from generation to generation, Sauron did not harbour hatred towards the elves. Not all of them, at the least. Even at his weakest, after the ring of power had been taken from him, the Dark Lord found enjoyment in turning his all-seeing gaze towards those he desired the most to serve him. Though his gaze would not reach them within the protected walls of their city, Sauron did not crave that pleasure. Not yet.

The Dark Lord was content watching them as they fought under his shadow; for it was there that they appeared the most beautiful. The other elves, those of Imladris and Lothlórien, may have been more radiant, they may have been wiser, but their cities shone as ethereal as they did, and the arrogant elves of those lands faded into the landscape they preferred. That was not the case with the ones Sauron favoured and desired. Each of them glowed like well polished crystals sprinkled over a sheet of darkest velvet where they caught what little light they could and reflected it, glittering brightly in the dark. Sauron almost feared, that were to touch one, it would shatter, and yet the elves fought with unmatched strength against his darkness and the shadows that were left in his wake.

He watched them with a strange resemblance of fondness, and waited for his time to come.

But it was the one who shone brighter than the rest that the Dark Lord caught sight of every now and again that he would follow more closely than the rest; a precious gem among the crystals, emerging from the protected city to fight alongside his kin. This elf Sauron knew by name, and if he'd only had a voice to do so, he would have spoken that name with a purr: Thranduil, son of Oropher.

Over the centuries Sauron watched the son of Oropher as the elven King joined his men in battles against the evil living in what was now known as Mirkwood. The Dark Lord would watch that bright and stubborn will with such desire that his none-existing heart ached as he dreamed of the day when this precious gem would kneel at his feet and vow loyalty.

The more he watched, the more he dreamed, the more Sauron knew that he would lavish this elven King with luxuries should the King serve him. Thranduil would become his favourite.

And then, on a day the Dark Lord swore to never forget, another bright and valuable gem left the safety of the elven city, revealing itself to the darkness. It took Sauron but one look to recognize this new light, and he shivered in delight. Thranduil had a son.

Once more Sauron's spirit ached with desire to rule over these strong elves and for the beautiful descendants of Oropher to bow before him. He would grant them both their hearts' desires should they do so.

But it was too early to make a move then, and the Dark Lord waited. He was, perhaps, more patient than the Valar themselves. His time would come again.

Strength gradually returned to him, and Sauron tentatively stretched his thoughts over the lands. At first it took him much concentration and it would tire him greatly, but as time passed, he became accustomed to the strain until he no longer needed to think to achieve his goal.

During these times the Dark Lord would linger his touch just inches away from his beloved gems and watch them shiver and glance around, unaware of what had caused their unease. With little else to do while waiting for his recovery, Sauron would reach out every time one or the other of Oropher's bloodline stepped into the forest.

In barely half a millennia after his first attempts, the Dark Lord had recovered enough to reach out effortlessly, and the two elves of royal blood had become accustomed to the constant dark presence. This Sauron noted with great delight.

Then came the day when fate seemed insistent to tempt them all, and the young son of Thranduil strayed just a little too far from home, and a little too close to Dol Guldur. That day, the Dark Lord could not stop himself from touching his invaluable gem. It was but a feather light brush against the young elven Prince, yet it made the elven Prince tremble, and the Dark Lord felt a surge of satisfaction. So close was the elven Prince, that Sauron wished he'd had his body to touch and smell and whisper with. The Dark Lord's thoughts escaped into the young mind with startling ease.

'_Bow before me, and you will have my love._'

His tone was sweet and gentle, as the Dark Lord took great care not to harm his gem in any way during their brief contact. The response he received was a quick and violent rejection that made him desire the Prince even more. The one whose thoughts had betrayed the name "Legolas", fled from the Dark Lord's presence, but never from his sight.

Once more Sauron waited. The elven Price had been frightened by him, and stayed within those protected walls far longer than Sauron would have preferred. But he was patient. And in time he was rewarded with the light of the elven King approaching where his son had so thoughtlessly strayed before. Accompanied by guards, the elven King came seeking for answers to what had dared disturb his son so.

The Dark Lord watched and wondered if he dared touch this one as well, knowing what a gamble it was to do so. Yet the elven King was there, and the Dark Lord was growing more powerful by the day. He had waited for so long…

Once more he whispered his offer, as sweet and gentle as he had before. And once more he was rejected, now with even more hatred, for where the Prince had not realized who the tempter was, the King had suspicions.

No elf of Mirkwood approached those lands after that, and Sauron did no longer whisper to the bloodline of Oropher. He lingered just out of reach once more, waiting for the day when the ring of power would be found and returned to him.

Despite the tales that were told from generation to generation, Sauron would not force the elves of Mirkwood into servitude, but wait for his beloved King and Prince to come to him. He would offer them the entire Mirkwood and all the riches of the mountains. They would bow to him willingly, or they would no longer be sparkling jewels on dark, dark velvet. This Sauron knew.

Thranduil and Legolas would become the Dark Lord's favourites, to be given only the best, and their warriors would become more feared than Sauron's own orcs. The Dark Lord simply had to wait patiently for a little while longer.

**End.**


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